<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tactical Retreats by lovemuppet</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128318">Tactical Retreats</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemuppet/pseuds/lovemuppet'>lovemuppet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Friends to Lovers, King Dean, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nephilim, Prince Castiel (Supernatural), Prince Sam Winchester, Shipper Sam, Slow Burn, Soldier Castiel, Starcrossed Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Wingfic, angles are bird humans, bffl hannah, but not really, demons are snake humans, high fashion angels, more tags as we progress, plans gone wrong, sastiel swirve, shipper Jack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:08:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemuppet/pseuds/lovemuppet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, Prince of Heaven has a problem: He’s bored. The war is over and he is now completely at his family’s mercy. Like a bolt out of the blue, a marriage proposal comes from the Kingdom of Winchester. Castiel had always seen himself as a bachelor for life. But running off to get married beats the hell out of hours of etiquette lessons.</p><p>Sam, Prince of Winchester hatches what he thought was the perfect plan. Turns out Sam was wrong pretty much on every count.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. p4p</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u"> His Divine Highness, Castiel, Prince of Heaven</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Your Highness? Your brother requests an audience with you in the throne room," Hannah announced from the doorway of the library. Castiel frowned and wondered how he was found so quickly. The library was usually empty today, so he had planned to pass the time quietly sunbathing in one of the window seats. He had only just slipped into a doze when she found him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His large black wings were relaxed, tips sweeping the floor idly. "I'm indisposed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Liar," Hannah hissed, crossing the room to close the curtain. Castiel grunted at the sudden chill. "You're just being lazy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hannah, it's</span>
  <em>
    <span> Sunday </span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tweaked the bend in his wing. "And on this blessed Sunday your brother, our </span>
  <em>
    <span>king</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wishes a word. Now, come up." Hannah was a distant cousin whose family lands had long been swept up by other distant relatives. Her mother and father believed that, without much of an estate or fortune to her name, Hannah would have far more opportunities serving the Court of Heaven and so sent her to be a playmate for the royal children. Once they were older, Castiel had made her his Honor Maid. He felt blessed to have her. Hannah kept him punctual, orderly, and successful in his interactions with Heaven's upper-crust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as a fledgling, Castiel had felt lost in the palace. He realized now, as an angel of advancing years, that he may never properly acclimate to life in the court of Heaven. That was fine. He doubted that any palace could make him feel as at home as he had felt on a battlefield. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until a year ago he had been well within his comfort,  free to seek glory in battle and grease his wings with the blood of the Serpents of the Damned. Angels and Serpents had been enemies for longer than the written word. Their animosity had remained strictly political until, some years ago, when a Serpent assassin murdered a human queen. This had brought humanity into the conflict for the first time and Heaven was quick to respond, aiding them without question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so began the Great War. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Great War had become Castiel’s brother James’s inheritance, and he had gone into battle vowing to return peace in his brother’s name. He had done it at great personal cost. Peace had rendered him useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What good was a soldier without a war to fight? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel had been a fine general and would have been happy in that position until it eventually claimed his life. But in this time of peace and prosperity, all that was left for Castiel to do now was marry well for his country. No number of victories in battle were going to get him out of that duty either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were only three children born of the last king and queen. Anna, the eldest, had abdicated her title in favor of a life of divine servitude after it became clear that she was very much uninterested in ruling. Or in marrying for that matter. James, who had only been older than Castiel by four minutes, had been declared the heir in her stead and had taken the position in stride. The kingdom had flourished and public opinion of the monarchy had never been more positive, especially after the war had ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother and sister insisted that, while he waited to be “swept off his feet” by someone,  Castiel should take the time to “relax” and “enjoy himself” with the diversions of court. He had been ordered by his brother to stay away from the training field and his sister had filled much of his time with etiquette classes, dance lessons, and parties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sure they meant well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s adopted son, Jack, was waiting for him outside the throne room. He was dressed sharply, likely coming from etiquette lessons himself. The lessons were a novelty for Jack who he had raised on the battlefield. Castiel however, loathed them. He had Hannah to remember those things for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Father," Jack said with an exaggerated bow, his speckled brown and white wings soundlessly stretching up as a counterbalance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yes, definitely coming from etiquette lessons.</span>
  </em>
  <span> From what he could tell, Jack’s form was flawless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jack. Do you know why we've been summoned?" He asked hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Jack straightened, tucking his wings behind his back politely. "But I saw His Majesty at breakfast and he has a glint in his eye that I find distrustful."A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel’s mouth as Jack opened the door for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Divine Majesty, King James the First was sitting at the throne, his beloved Queen Amilia sitting on his right holding the golden-haired Princess Claire on her lap. On the kings left, their sister Anna, The Holy Virgin of Heaven sat in her vestments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiel! Jack!” the king called out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jimmy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good Afternoon, your Majesty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good of you both to join us,” Jimmy said brightly, his sharp black wings shivering in excitement and secret laughter. Castiel’s gait slowed in suspicion. His eyes narrowed and his wings tucked themselves behind his back tightly as he crossed the room. Jimmy clicked his tongue. “Oh, come on. I promise it isn’t more etiquette lessons.” Castiel’s wings loosened but his face maintained suspicion. Once they reached the platform the thrones sat on, the king asked his brother conspiratorially, “How were you spending your Sabbath, my brother? Sunbathing in the library?”  Castiel fought off an answering grin. He knew that the king, much to the vast annoyance of his staff, would often vanish to some sunny patch of the palace for a quick respite. Jimmy’s expression became even more impish as he teased his twin.“Have you been enjoying your leave, Prince General Castiel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” He spread both his hands and wings imploringly. “I’m nearly bored to death. Are you sure there isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can aid you in, Jimmy? I’d be happy to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>employment you could offer me at this rate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny that you should say that. I do think that I have some </span>
  <em>
    <span>employment </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you.” Castiel caught the laughing expressions of the rest of his family and hesitated before asking what it was. King Jimmy produced a crisp white envelope with a black wax seal. It looked familiar, one of the human kingdoms to the west. Not that he could for the life of him remember which one, but he had seen that seal before. “You see, I’ve received this letter from the Kingdom of Winchester.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, that was the one.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “And their prince, Samuel is requesting an audience with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel had never met the crown prince but he had met the king on the battlefield as allies. It was a story he had been quite proud of telling when he was asked about the Great War. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Serpents of the Damned had slithered their way into the Winchester camp in the middle of the night and a skirmish had broken out. Castiel had led a garrison to assist but by the time they arrived, the large medical tent in the middle of the camp had been set on fire. The humans had removed their injured from the tent but someone had gone in for a final sweep and hadn’t come out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, though, had been on the side of the man trapped in the inferno. He doused himself in water until his wings were heavy and dripping and walked into the flames with divine confidence. Castiel was sure he had been created for that rescue for the salvation of that human. Most angels wouldn’t have been able to stand the flames. Their wings would have burnt up like dry paper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man collapsed only feet away from the entrance, beaten beyond recognition and quickly losing consciousness just as Castiel had burst into the burning tent. He draped the man over his back and pulled him from the flames, carrying them both to safety. Unable to fight effectively with his wings waterlogged, Castiel ordered the garrison to push the Serpent hordes back so that the humans could make a safe retreat. He hung back and helped tend to the injured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel had only known that the man he saved was the king because his eyes bolted open while Castiel tended to his mangled face. The king of Winchester’s eyes were famous after all, even (or especially) within the ranks of the Army of Heaven. The color of them had rendered Castiel speechless. It had been like looking down at the grass in the pastures of Heaven as it zoomed by beneath you. He had felt a dizzying ache to plummet into them like younger angels who fell out of the sky suddenly sometimes as a joke. They pulled up at the last possible moment, laughing hysterically and thrilled to be alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, the king’s eyes hadn’t stayed open for very long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something inherently romantic (if Castiel could be the judge of such things) about rescuing some endangered monarch from death. Claire thought so too and asked for it as a bedtime story at least once a week. She whined though, that it would have been better if it had been a princess, and then if Castiel had swept her up on a unicorn and made the princess her aunt and had lots of babies for her to play with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel agreed with her that that would make a much better fantasy. Jack had done his best to keep from laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like he is laughing now in the throne room with the rest of the family. Castiel smacked him lightly with the tip of his wing to school his features.  Jack could stand to be on Castiel’s side, couldn’t he? Everyone else had thought Castiel entertaining other royalty </span>
  <em>
    <span>hilarious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They all knew Castiel </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>to play host to members of other courts. He was never able to remember all the social graces and usually ended up offending someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy had looked at him expectantly, so he asked “Did he mention why, your Majesty?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First, he would like to meet with you to thank you personally for the salvation of his brother, the King,” Jimmy said proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s face heated. “That would have sufficed, there’s no reason to do it in person,” he grumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the king ignored him.“Second, he’s seeking a companion and had asked if you would be amenable to marriage,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s wings flared in alarm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally he wishes to bring a few riding beasts for Claire.” Jimmy looked at his wife with a bright smile as Claire cheered.  “That’s kind of him. Isn’t it, my love?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marriage?” Castiel asks, “Why would he want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His family’s faces dropped from jovial to something on the verge of concern, their wings flexing anxiously behind them. Jimmy seemed at a loss. “What do you mean ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span> why’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna spoke up, big eyes made bigger by pity for him. “Castiel, surely you can understand how desirable you are as a marriage prospect, as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mate </span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From a political perspective, he supposed he could. He was the only single sibling. He knew that. There was a value that came with that. The kingdom was rich in resources and talent and that made them a powerful ally. But Jimmy had been such a good negotiator that a political marriage was hardly necessary to do business with Heaven. It was Castiel’s job to marry well but his brother’s political skill had made nearly all matches equal in value. Castiel’s hand was an equal opportunity venture but there didn’t seem to be a line forming. He didn’t know what to make of it. “This is the first offer I’ve had and I’m nearly 40.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been away at war!” Anna cried, “It’s hard to properly court someone when they’re off in some desert somewhere drenched in Serpent blood!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your portrait doesn’t do you any favors, Castiel.” Queen Amelia rebuked. She was right of course. He had been in his early twenties the last time he had sat for a portrait and when the final product was completed, he had been greatly disappointed. Even with the usual licenses portrait artists took, the one who had painted Castiel hadn’t managed to make him look any less irritated and uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've had to turn down plenty of offers. Even with a terrible portrait,” Jimmy said flippantly. “Do you know how desperate the serpent nation had been for a cease-fire?” Castiel shivered. “Even the Queen of the Djinn had been asking after you for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And she doesn’t like anyone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s not the first?” Castiel asked, brows furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!” His family cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just the first one we felt would be worthwhile to ask you about,” the king said honestly. “The Kingdom of Winchester is a valuable ally to have both in times of war and in times of peace. And, you already have their king in your debt.” Jimmy said “ I’ve been talking to the Prince since the war ended, Samuel’s got a good head on his shoulders. It’s a good match, Castiel.” He signaled for a servant to bring forward a small-sized black frame. “Here, he’s sent a portrait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack moved forward, passed a stunned Castiel, to look first. “Oh, he’s handsome at least. That’s good, right?” He stepped to the side so that Castiel could look too. The portrait was a modest but masterful painting of the royal brothers of Winchester. He looked to where the younger brother, the prince was sitting. Castiel could tell easily that he must be rather tall. He also looked incredibly young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jimmy, he’s a child!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy cuffed his brother on the side of the head with his wing as he too regarded the portrait. “Don’t be rude.  This was painted before the late King John passed.” He nudged Castiel closer to the painting, “Look more closely, they’re both only princes here. The painting is more than a decade old.” The king gave a side-eye to Castiel and tutted. “How old is your portrait, Castiel?”</span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Nearly</span></em> <em><span>twenty years!</span></em><span> ” Anna exclaimed, “And you won’t sit for another!” </span></p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you just have Jimmy sit for mine! We have the same face!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think I’ve tried that?” Anna asked sulkily. “He’s almost as bad as you are. He won’t sit for me either. He’s just better about avoiding me.” The king and queen tittered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel looked more closely at the drawing of the brothers. Prince Samuel had a sweet, scholarly face softened by the way his hair framed his sharp angles. He had a placid smile on and one arm disappeared around the other young man in a fond and fraternal way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar green eyes caught Castiel’s attention and he was gratified to put a full face them</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king was handsome too, his hair shorn quite close on the sides. Where the prince looked like a scholar (obvious down to the large nose, pointed at the tip as though it had been formed by being fitted in the creases of many books) the king hadn’t looked very much like a king at all. He had a strong browline and a firm looking mouth but they had been paired by an open face and large eyes and an expression that made him look more roguish than a king had any right to look. Castiel knew that he and the king were nearly the same age. If he had looked this young, Castiel could only wonder how young he looked in his own portrait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” He said finally. “I’ll receive him. But please, send a new sketch or something with the reply. I’m sure I look...different, now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much more handsome,” Anna cooed. “I could draw one now if you’d like. I’m not otherwise engaged.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Castiel said with a sigh. Jack tapped him with his wings in quiet encouragement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy looked particularly pleased. “Besides being good for our country, Castiel, I do think marriage will civilize you a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel didn’t like the sound of that at all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">His Royal Highness, Samuel Prince of Winchester: </span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had spent a great deal of time learning about the kings of the past and their accolades. He was a scholar, that’s what he did. He had studied the reign of every patriarch from the beginning of the written word. So when he said that his brother could be one of the greatest kings Kansas had ever seen, it was an opinion informed by years of intense study. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>King Dean of Winchester had a knack for efficient delegation and could charm nearly anyone into (or out of) anything. He was on one hand the raucous mischief-maker at a party and, on the other, the man most could depend on for comfort in hard times. During the war, Dean had managed the kingdom remotely. Many kingdoms had done the same and yet, Kansas was the only one that had managed not just to survive years of warfare, but to grow in both status and resources. Sam could only imagine the things that could be accomplished now that his brother was back on home soil. And things had gone well, Sam thought, for the first few months. But lately, Dean had taken to fits of brooding or outright despondency. And when he was like that, he was almost worse than useless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Dean got his act together, it was up to Sam to pick up the slack. Ruling, even by proxy, had left a sour taste in his mouth and so Sam prayed every night to the kings of the past to intercede. He prayed they would tip the scales in his favor and deliver to him a path back to a life of Academia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And one night, just over a year after the war had ended, they did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had gone down to supper to find the king in incredibly high spirits, gesticulating wildly over his dinner to his guest, Queen Charlie of Moondoor. Their eyes twinkled with drink in the warm candlelight.  Dean was telling </span>
  <em>
    <span>the story</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Again. It was the only thing that reliably managed to change Dean’s mood for the better these days and Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before the end of the war, a rash of fires had broken out in Dean’s camp and the medical tent had caught fire. Afraid that there was still one last injured man left inside, Dean had rushed in. The injured man had turned out to be a demon spy, the fire starter, the demon Alistair in disguise. Rather than leaving him and evacuating to safety, Dean had engaged Alistair in combat. By Dean’s own admission, it had been a stupid choice. Alistair was killed, but Dean had been beaten nearly to death and collapsed before he could evacuate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Charlie, I’m not kidding, I almost died! I didn’t want to die, not like that. In a fire? Like mom? So you know what I did?” Charlie shook her head with a beery smile. She did actually know what he did. She had heard this story at least a handful of times by now. But they had between them three and a half tumblers of mead and that made old stories new again. “I prayed. Honest, I prayed. I asked my mom to send me one of her angels.” Dean polished off his tumbler and his valet Joanna filled it again for him with a small, amused smile. “And, just as I'm thinkin I’m barbeque, in walks an angel. I swear he had these big black wings, absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>soaked</span>
  </em>
  <span> in water.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought an angel's wings were waterproof?” Charlie asked. Sam snorted. It was the same thing she had always asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So did I.” Dean nodded. “Not this one though. The water felt good on my fucked up face too.” He took a large drink, smiling brightly. “He picked me up like a sack of Idaho potatoes and walked right out of the tent. I passed out for a bit and then suddenly, I’m looking into these blue eyes. It was like looking up at the sky in the middle of the summer, Charlie. I didn’t know they make eyes that blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam groaned. If he never heard the word “blue” again, it would be too soon. This infatuation was getting out of hand and Sam had firmly suspected it had contributed to Dean’s mood swings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the last year, Sam had been slowly building a rapport with King James of Heaven as he relayed Dean’s messages about repairing the roads between their two kingdoms. He had mentioned as a postscript in one of the documents that Dean had been saved by an angel and that he was very interested in finding out who the angel had been so he could thank him. The king had proudly informed Sam that the savior had been none other than his own kin. Between that letter and the next, Sam learned everything he could about the Prince of Heaven. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never met an angel in person. Few human nobles from the “fly over” kingdoms had. But Sam still wrote to his friends from college and other courts. They all had plenty to say about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to the rumor mill, Castiel had been on the battlefield longer than Dean had and only made his way back to the Court of Heaven for rare occasions. His family would celebrate his homecoming with some of the most lavish parties but the guest of honor would sit looking sour in his seat all night and would leave before lunch the next day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had had no trouble imagining the sour face. Shortly after Sam had asked the king about his brother, a portrait was loaned to him from Heaven. The king had sent along with a note, explaining that the portrait was quite dated but that it was the only one Prince Castiel personally sat for. Castiel was handsome, a structured face and full lips, but not even the portrait artist had been able to soften the irritation his expression had suggested. He found Castiel’s blue eyes unsettling more than mesmerizing. He felt as if, even through a painting, the prince was trying to pick him apart. He had sent the portrait off again without a second glance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that Sam put full weight on rumors that Prince Castiel turned down marriage offers quite regularly and with a good deal of ease. Even now that the war was over and he had nothing better to do than to get married. He had seemed to be quite the heart breaker, one of the visiting elf princes had burst into tears when Sam had said his name a few months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was because of this, Sam had reason to believe his ploy would work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took care to write to the King of Heaven for an audience with the prince rather than writing to Castiel himself and buried his request in other attractive offers and flatteries. It had taken weeks to draft that letter and Sam had been quite proud of himself. The king would convince his brother to at least meet with him, Sam was certain. Why else had he sent Sam the portrait of his brother if he hadn’t considered Sam to be interested in him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam, then, would take Dean with him to meet the angel in person. Dean was extraverted and good with people but the Prince seemed determined to turn people off. A surly disposition coupled with Sam’s inevitable “heartbreak” when Castiel turned him down, would erase any of Dean’s lingering fondness for the angel and the battlefield, Sam thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Dean himself who had always said that anger was a good motivator. Sam was reasonably sure that, infatuation over, he could get a few months of productivity out of Dean and peace in the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least Dean would stop talking about eyes that were the bluest blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joanna handed Sam a crisp white envelope with a gold seal. “Letter for you sir,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, My Old Lords,” Sam muttered, practically jumping out of his seat. Dean and Charlie were talking now in hushed tones, their heads bent together secretively. He barely looked up when Sam left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sat down in a comfortable chair just off the dining room and ripped the letter open with his teeth. He read it quickly, pleased to find that he had in fact been granted an audience to discuss his various proposals. The king had expressed some surprise that his brother had wished that Sam be more informed about what he looked like now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drawing enclosed was done by someone with a great deal of skill. In the drawing was a man, maybe a bit older than Dean, reclined on some pillows, wings billowed upward in a way that seemed to suggest surprise even though the face was relaxed. There was a younger angel in the sketch and he had a large smile on his face, hands on his hip, looking at the same spot between them. Sam followed their eyes to see a chessboard, from what he could tell, the younger angel had won. Sam hadn’t expected that. Nobility tended to make themselves look as flattering as possible in these types of drawings. Losing at chess was hardly flattering. Maybe Castiel had done it to try to warn Sam off and save him the trip to Heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drawing was uncolored but the linework was immaculate. Sam turned the drawing over to read the inscription. “Lord Jack bests the Prince in chess. Year of the Lord xx20, Anna.” Sam’s eyebrows raised. A letter from the king and a drawing done by the Holy Virgin of Heaven? It would seem as though the Prince’s family were either incredible busybodies or they loved their brother very much. Sam reckoned that it must be both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped back into the room just as Dean cut himself off for the evening. “So get this, the angel who saved you, I’ve found out who he is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes went wide. “Get out of here, who is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prince of Heaven, Castiel,” Sam said with a smile. “I’ve been writing with King James about your trade proposals anyway, I figured if anyone knew it would be him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old Lords, the prince? Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could be no one else, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean narrowed his eyes. “Sure didn’t look like a prince to me. Dude was half-naked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a sketch. You can judge for yourself.” Sam handed over the sketch the Holy Virgin had drawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked at it for a moment longer than he would normally, trying to focus his eyesight through the haze of alcohol. “Yeah, that’s him.” He didn’t hand back the sketch. “Who’s the kid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Lord Jack’. I haven’t heard much about him. I suppose I should ask if I intend for Prince Castiel to be my husband.” Sam said resolutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your what?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s knee hit the bottom of the table, knocking over the last of Queen Charlie’s mead onto her lap. She yiped “Dean! Watch it will you! Ugh, this is going to stain, Glinda’s gonna kill me.” Charlie excused herself quickly, Joanna following her out to make sure she didn’t trip and break her arm. Again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean ignored all of this, his attention fixed on Sam, “You wanna run that by me again? We don’t even know this guy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I feel like I do, Dean! I feel like I've known him for years by how you talk about him.” Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, I’ve asked for an audience with him at least. Can you blame me? You make him seem, I don’t know, like a great hero.” Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam stepped over him.  “I’m thirty, Dean. It’s time I look at my options. Heaven has some of the best sheep herds, wine, and timber on the continent. Might as well start there and see where it goes.” Even if Sam hadn’t intended for things to work out, the premise was true, he realized. Sam was at the age where he should look for a companion. And, if there were any kingdom to start looking, it would have been Heaven. Sam could see Dean working through Sam’s speech, looking for the lie. When he couldn’t find one, his entire body slumped. Sam had him on the ropes. “It’s an excellent match. I’m setting off for Heaven in the morning.” Sam said with a nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why wait? We’ll have Jo get the team strapped up and go now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam scoffed. “Dean, you’re two sheets to the wind.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll sleep it off in the carriage.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Slip into Something a Little More Comfortable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Last time: </p><p>Jimmy looked particularly pleased. “Besides being good for our country, Castiel, I do think marriage will civilize you a bit.”<br/>Castiel didn’t like the sound of that at all.  </p><p>Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why wait? We’ll have Jo get the team strapped up and go now.”<br/>Sam scoffed. “Dean you’re two sheets to the wind.”<br/>“I’ll sleep it off in the carriage.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THANK YOU SO MUCH, MK and xLailanix, FOR BETA'ING!!!<br/>what even are punctuations, ammirite?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>His Divine Highness, Castiel, Prince of Heaven</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was customary for the Court of Heaven to throw a large reception whenever a distinguished guest paid a visit. Over the last two decades, the royal family would drag Prince Castiel home, using all of their powers of guilt and persuasion, and demand to celebrate his return with a raucous reception. These parties were part of the reason Prince Castiel had hardly come home during his deployment.  </p><p>Court parties (be they funerals or baptisms) were famous excuses for cutting loose, kicking up some good intrigue, and trying to tempt each other to bed. The nobility seemed especially rowdy at receptions thrown in Castiel’s honor, drinking excessively and dancing until the early morning hours in garments of high fashion. </p><p>All things considered, Castiel supposed he should have counted himself lucky. His family had been so happy to see him he could wear what it was he liked and, so long as he attempted to “see and be seen”, they allowed him to retire whenever he wished. </p><p>It seemed to disappoint them to see him go to bed early and alone.</p><p>Tonight was different. He wasn’t the guest of honor. Castiel was the host, and his brother and sister had demanded that he let no one show him up at his own party. Hannah had taken to the challenge with gusto, vowing to dress him up “like a proper prince.”  </p><p>Members of the court took delight in celebrating nearly everything in elite style:</p><p> dressed in layers of fabric, shining metal bits, glass beads, and yards of ribbon. They spread these embellishments over clothing, accessories, and most times, woven into wings. </p><p>It was all so much more effort than the soldier prince had ever cared to put into his wardrobe. He had spent many years with nothing but a cloth to keep him modest in the blaze of the desert summers and human cast-offs of plain tunics, long johns, and socks to keep him warm in the bitter desert winters. The army of Heaven traveled light, and the donations were so generous that angels would often trade their feathers to the humans to repay them. Castiel had traded a full molt’s worth of feathers for an old, tan overcoat. He kept it with him in his burlap poke as a prized possession. </p><p>He cast a longing glance through the looking glass of his vanity towards the dressing closet where he kept the poke and wondered, glumly, when it was he’d be able to wear it again. </p><p>Hannah threaded thin golden ribbons into his wings. They itched to move, but he kept them straight on threat of death. “Is this all necessary? It’s not like we’re getting married tonight. I haven’t even had the chance to talk to him properly yet,” Castiel complained.</p><p>“You never know where talking can lead,” Hannah countered absently as she teased his feathers to hold the ribbon in a way that looked alluring. </p><p>She frowned deeply. </p><p>Castiel sighed. Normally she’d be right. It wasn’t unheard of for a couple to decide to “retire early”, that was rather the point of these gatherings. But that wasn’t something that Castiel was expecting. Sex on first acquaintance felt disingenuous to his own character. And he would like to think he respected Prince Samuel more than that. He hoped that the prince returned the sentiment. “I’m not exactly a romantic. Or easy. I hope he doesn’t expect me to be.” </p><p>“Which? Easy or romantic?” </p><p>Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Either.” </p><p>Hannah considered her work and blew her bangs out of her face, unsatisfied. “Tonight would be the night to pretend to be one of those, at least.”  </p><p>A  bedazzled monster blinked back at Castiel from behind his looking glass. He groaned. Some beads were bells that tinkled when he shook his wings. “Hannah, please, take these out. I’m begging you,” Castiel petitioned miserably.</p><p>Jack leaned against the vanity table. Castiel recognized his simple cream suit as the one he usually wore to a reception. No compulsory costumes for Jack. “I think you look nice.” Even saying that, he looked at Hannah’s work critically. “Will the humans appreciate it? From what I’ve read about human art, they have a different aesthetic. This might be ‘a little much. ’” He regarded some beads and nodded once, reaching a conclusion. “I think we should defer a bit to Castiel. He’s been around humans more.” </p><p>“In battle,” Hannah argued.</p><p>“Then why not do it like that, Hannah?” </p><p>Hannah’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Like he’s going off to battle?” </p><p>“Jack’s right,” said Castiel quickly understanding Jack’s suggestion for what it was, an out. “I’m not exactly some lovelorn maiden. Or even a proper prince. I’m a soldier, Hannah.” </p><p>Hannah sighed. “Alright. But I'm improving it. We wouldn’t want the court to get the wrong impression.” </p><p>“God forbid,” Castiel drawled.</p><p>Castiel saw Hannah’s breath catch as an idea came to her. Her salt and pepper colored wings trembled as if they wanted to shoot upward. “Your Highness, how close is your next molt?” </p><p> </p><p>She came around his wings and knelt by him almost submissively. His eyes narrowed. Hannah was not an angel most trifled with. To see her kowtowing was both unsettling and suspicious. “Why?” </p><p>“Could I dip your feathers?”   </p><p>“Would you unload some of this burden you’ve beset me with?” He asked, looking down at her, his eyebrow popping up.</p><p>She bit her lip and conceded, “I wouldn’t need quite so many ornaments. The message would be clear, for Heaven at least. Who knows or cares if it means anything to the humans.” </p><p>Castiel consented. If it took away the weight of some of these embarrassing bobbles, all the better. Hannah, with misty eyes, went off to fetch some materials. </p><p>Dipping the feathers wasn’t painful, but the feathers would not be salvageable. That was rather the allure of it. With your feathers dipped, you were vulnerable, bound to walk the earth until your next molt. Soldiers, and prizefighters too, would dip their wings during sports festivals as an intimidation tactic. It was a way to say, “I could beat you without ever lifting my feet from the ground and I'd risk death to prove it.” They would chant and pound fists against their chest, shouting things in the tongues of the Lord, “If I die, I die. God can take me home. ” </p><p>Hannah came back with her eyes red-rimmed. With a sheepish smile, she removed some finery, muttering to herself wetly, “They may steal you away from us in the night, my friend. I may never groom you again.” </p><p>Castiel had spent so much time surrounded by brazen acts of intimidation that he had forgotten about the reverent and somber submission of the practice-- the devotion that inspired happy lovers to dip their wings, a symbol of their faith in their partners for safety. Their love and God’s mercy were all they ever needed. </p><p>Castiel thought it must be terrifying to love someone so much. </p><p> </p><p>It must be terrifying to watch someone you love, a family member or friend, declare that they love someone that much. His own eyes misted to think of how much his friend was feeling on his behalf, political marriage or not. To Hannah, it was all the same. </p><p> </p><p>As they waited for the paint to dry, Hannah added some beaded threads back and a ribbon or two “for tradition”. She even glued a few round, golden mirror beads to catch the light. While the wings finished drying, she did her best to mimic Castiel’s other breeding features, painting small white circles around his eyes and keeping his hair perfectly wild. Castiel had to admit he had probably never looked so good in his entire life. </p><p>There came a sharp knock on his door, and before anyone could open it for him, the king skirted in with a mischievous smile. “I wanted to see how Hannah had―Oh dear, sweet God. Castiel!” Jimmy’s face melted into something warm and wide. His glossy black wings went straight up above him in surprise. “I had every intention to come up here and laugh at you with bridal baubles and ribbon in your wings. But you’ve gone and shown me again, haven’t you?” The king laid his hands to cup Castiel’s jaw from behind, burying his face in his hair. His wings had gone back behind him so as not to accidentally touch Castiel’s as they dried. The two sat there for a moment and neither of them knew it, but their hearts and breathing were perfectly in sync. Jimmy kissed the top of Castiel’s head, eyes closed, lashes wet. “I think you’ll make Anna cry. I’m glad I came up early to steel myself. Can’t have her holding it against me; you aren’t the only one she picks on.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"><b>His Royal Highness, Samuel Prince of Winchester:</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Despite his deceptions, Sam felt a thrum of excitement to see the tall spires and glittering lights of the Palace of Heaven at the top of the mountain. The setting sun stained the bright white granite exterior, making the palace glow against the trees that sat like little black brushes along the mountain. The last time Sam had seen even half so many trees, he was well on his way to be a Man of Letters along the Western Coast at the University of Stanford. But the men of letters had thinned those trees out for development and agriculture. It was nothing like the thick forests that covered these eastern mountains like a bedsheet. </p><p>This was probably why the roads to Heaven were so neglected. Angels could fly and navigate the mountains, relatively safe from all the things that had to travel through the thick forests on foot. Their valleys and plateaus were well protected. </p><p>Dean and King Jimmy’s road improvement shaved a full day off of their travels. The work the two had done was amazing, Sam thought. The road itself was enhanced by magic and went from Kansas City, right on the border of Kansas, all the way to the base of the Appalachian Mountains that was the natural border to the Kingdom of Heaven. From there, they had laid a smooth road right to the gates of the palace.  Many other kingdoms had gone and chipped in both on this road, and the Route 66 that connected Kansas to the coast off to the west. This had been a strategic move that had helped the humans win the war. </p><p>Sam was excited to see the real payoffs of all the work that he had been doing under his brother’s direction. Dean, though, seemed a bit subdued. He wasn’t in a bad mood, wasn’t brooding or pensive. Just quiet. When they had left, he was still drunk and jovial despite being pulled along on what he thought was a spur-of-the-moment adventure. He laughed along with Sam and sang old bardic songs until he eventually passed out. Once he woke up though, he spoke only quietly if he did at all. Sam would have chalked it up to being hungover, and maybe that was part of it, but Dean was even quieter now that the castle was in view.</p><p>It would be ridiculous to assume that there wasn’t some crush forming on his brother’s part with how much he had talked about the angel. Sam felt bad for having to knock Castiel off of that pedestal his brother had him on. Regular people, even Sam if he felt so inclined, could pine away to their heart's content. They allowed regular people to spend their entire lives hopelessly devoted to some lost love and act like some bitter old spinster. But Dean was a king. He had responsibilities. At least that’s what Sam had to keep telling himself at this point to justify his actions. It was too late now to turn back or to second guess himself. </p><p>The drive to Heaven gave Sam some much needed time to think. It had occurred to him that something in his life needed changing, and it had for quite some time. Dean’s return should have been that change, but it wasn’t. It was all the same things but at a greater magnitude. Sam had felt stifled in a way that he hadn’t felt since King John was alive. He resented his father, even now, cold in the grave as he was. Sam would be damned if he was going to let his relationship with his brother be spoiled because Sam was overworked and bored. </p><p>Part of him had hoped that maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dean wasn’t nursing some hidden affection for his savior. Maybe Castiel was only half as bad as anyone said. Maybe they’d meet and not hate each other, but Dean would lose interest. If Castiel had turned out to be a decent sort of Angel with his heart set on marriage, Sam wouldn’t mind going through with all of this for all the reasons he had told Dean the night before. Things were rather up in the air at this point. </p><p>He would have to wing it. </p><p>Upon arriving at the castle of Heaven, they were met at the gates by two very tall looking angels. Sam was taken aback at the size of their wings. They were smaller than he thought could carry a human, maybe twice an arm’s length, and they weren’t white, they were more of beige color with patches of brown, much like birds.</p><p>The shorter of the two angels asked them for their names and paperwork, his wings splaying a bit to look intimidating. Joanna, who was sitting up front, gave him an unimpressed snort and handed him the papers. The angel blanched. The taller one leaned over and whistled. “Bossing around a king, Abner?” he teased. </p><p>The smaller angel tried to smother the taller one with his wing and handed back the paperwork in a hurry. “Shut up, Gadreel, open the gate.”</p><p>The gate opened up into a tidy courtyard to a woman with wide green eyes,  red hair, and pure, white wings. She was barefoot and modestly dressed in crisp white vestments. “Hello, King Dean Winchester and Prince Samuel. I’m Anna, Holy Virgin of Heaven,” She said brightly, “they have sent me down to receive you.” </p><p>“We’re honored,” Sam said, reaching for her hand to kiss, which according to lore, was the appropriate thing to do. </p><p>She extended her hand to Dean, who kissed it gently too. “I say that, but honestly I volunteered.” </p><p> </p><p>“Your drawing of the Prince impressed me. It was a...unique choice. Don’t people usually want to look good for those sorts of things?” </p><p>Anna’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “He doesn’t know I sent that particular sketch. I made several and simply couldn’t decide. He doesn’t sit long enough for a portrait. Besides, I don’t think a portrait would really capture his personality.“ She regarded Dean who, despite being a ranked superior, had hung back a little in the conversation, letting Sam take the lead. “Your Majesty. I believe you’ve met my brother. Is it an excellent likeness?” </p><p>Dean smiled tightly. “I’m not sure. I could barely see him through the smoke.” Sam frowned. From the way Dean told the story, he felt like he knew every barbule on the prince’s wings. He was holding back, but why?  “I just remember the eyes. But the sketch wasn’t in color.” </p><p>Anna sighed. “I was afraid the colors would run and ruin the sketch.” She held her arms out to link with Dean and Sam as their small party of attendants followed behind at a distance and the direction of the house staff. Her wings settled over them both, drawing them in as if they had been friends for years. She dropped her voice down “Not as though I could do those eyes justice anyway. His Majesty can attest, even at just a glance, Castiel’s eyes are divine.” </p><p>Dean said politely, “They were pretty.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam scoffed. He had heard Dean use every saccharine descriptor for the color blue. What was Dean playing at? “Your Holiness--”</p><p>“Anna, please.”</p><p>“Anna. I’ve heard conflicting accounts of His Highness, the prince. That he’s beautiful but... Is he <em> unfriendly </em>?” he asked nervously, unsure what answer he hoped for more. “I’ve heard he was an amazing General and I know he must be brave to go into a burning tent like that, but my friends who have met him tell me he was ‘cold’?” Dean frowned and gave Sam a look of question and warning. </p><p>Anna blinked, and then her wings shivered behind them. Her eyes swam. Sam was about to apologize, but she shook her head. “Forgive me I know you’re unused to angel body language. I’m trying my best not to laugh and remain demure but--” she giggled, “The answer depends on who you ask. I will say that among us in Heaven he hasn’t any enemies. The court is fond of him for his subversive nature.” Her wings shook again. “Perhaps I should entertain you later with stories of him as a fledgling. They are quite compromising. He and the king were always getting into or making a good deal of trouble. It was adorable.” Sam’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.</p><p>“I’ll trade you,” Dean said with a charming smile, “I have enough embarrassing stories about Sam to fill a small library.” Anna laughed merrily. </p><p>Warmth and laughter enveloped Sam and Dean from the moment they opened the doors. Only a few people were lingering in the hall, but the noise from the party in the ballroom spilled out easily and rang throughout the castle. Sam felt Anna take a deep breath and hum. An angel's sense of smell was much better than a human's and Sam reasoned she could probably smell the food just behind the doors. </p><p>Attendants opened the door for them, and warm white light spilled into the corridor. “We throw so many parties and yet I still get excited when they open the doors,” she whispered to Dean who chuckled. Once Sam’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that the party was in full swing. Angels filled the ballroom dressed in fine, exotic fashions, sporting distinct wing colors with what looked like bright beads and ribbons strung throughout. </p><p>Sam had never been one to pay too close attention to specific fashions. He knew enough to know when something didn’t match which, he figured, was more than could be said for Dean. Both he and his brother deferred to the palace tailor. Sam had thought what they had worn to the party would be tantamount to them showing up in their Sunday Best. But Dean’s kingly best looked almost plain against a backdrop of high fashion. Sam knew that he’d have to be the one that spoke to the tailor about it. Dean was always looking for a reason to throw Crowley into the dungeon.</p><p>Dean leaned into Anna and whispered, “Is it weird I feel underdressed?”</p><p>Anna’s wings twitched, and she smiled, “Don’t mind these peacocks, they’ve all got something to prove to each other. These receptions are mostly an excuse to engage in politics or to convince someone into your bed.” She paused in her stride. The boys, passing her briefly, stopped and turned back to her with curious expressions. She considered them a moment more and then linked arms with them again, “Your clothes are fine. You’d be stared at in any case, you are both exquisite.” </p><p> </p><p>Dean looked over the top of her head and mouthed to Sam: Did we just get checked out by the Holy Virgin? Sam snorted. Dean turned his attention to the platform in front of them where the royal family sat and started a bit. “I forgot they were twins,” he muttered. Sam nodded for Dean’s benefit but hadn’t known. He inspected the King and decided that it was true. The king looked much like the man in the portrait, though older. He had neatly set black hair and a firm but friendly face. He was the same height as Dean, but with a softer build. </p><p>He was definitely not a soldier. </p><p>Anna had them stop in the middle of the ballroom. King Jimmy stood and addressed those in attendance:  “Court of Heaven, it pleases Us to receive our esteemed guests, King Dean of Winchester and his brother Prince Samuel.” There was polite applause and wings shivered around the room, adding the sound of tinkling bells and the slide of feathers. “Prince Samuel, it is Our hope that Our brother, Prince Castiel, can imagine a home with you as a shelter in the storm.” Wings from everyone in the room came down in a single, synchronized motion and sent air traveling up through the middle of the room, lifting Sam’s hair and floating through his clothes.  Sam thought he heard someone let out a whoop but couldn’t find the source of the noise. </p><p>As Sam, Dean, and Anna approached His Majesty King Jimmy, Sam could see his brother looked nervous. He wasn’t smiling. The angel king seemed not to notice and said in a relaxed and friendly way, “Ah! King Dean! I have heard much of your exploits. Convention disallows me from participating in warfare, but the Lord saw fit to grant me a twin. Do we look much alike?” </p><p>Dean took a moment, and then his usual cocky smirk sprouted on his face. Sam almost sighed in relief. “Close. Your eyes are a different shade of blue.” </p><p>“My God!” the king exclaimed, “It took my wife years to realize that and you’ve caught it in one glance.” Dean smiled proudly. </p><p>Sam added, “My brother has fairly good eyes.” </p><p>The king nodded enthusiastically. “So my brother informs me. He also says that you were a fantastic general. That’s not a compliment he passes out lightly.” A thoughtful and assessing look passed over his face before his wings shook themselves out and he smiled. Dean relaxed next to Sam. “Dean, I hope you’ll allow that one tactical retreat could bring a great bounty of happiness to both of our families and look upon it proudly.” Sam resisted the urge to snort. Dean was proud of that loss, that was for sure. </p><p>“I will try, Your Majesty.” Dean said puffing up his chest “I don’t take losses easily. Our next battle-” </p><p>“Was an amazing victory. I am well aware. My brother had watched the whole fight from above after his wings dried out.” </p><p>Dean blinked, suddenly transported back in time on memory, “It wasn’t just him either. There were four or five others.” </p><p>“Yes. His garrison was determined to watch, he said.” </p><p>Dean looked past Anna to Sam. “We thought they were vultures.” </p><p>The king’s wings twitched, and his mouth ticked upward into a sly smile. “Not vultures, no. Just some very nosey angels.” The king looked past them toward the door, “Speaking of. I believe my brother and his ward have finally arrived.”</p><p>A blond youth Sam recognized from the sketch skirted into the room. He walked with strong purposeful strides toward them dressed conservatively, much more to the fashion of Dean and Sam, in a plain cream suit that was tailored to his body. They had sprayed his wings with glittering water that caught the light, and he had few adornments in his wings apart from that. The color of his wings were beautiful with no extra bits tacked on. They had patterns like an owl, white and brown together in a very soft-looking display. He looked like the single most friendly soul in the room, an absolute ray of sunshine. He stood to Dean’s other side and looked at Sam. “Hello,” he with a raise of his hand.</p><p>Anna jumped in for the introduction as King Jimmy was now watching the door like a hawk. “This is Prince Castiel’s adopted son, Lord Jack. He is our resident human expert.” </p><p>“That explains the clothes,” Dean said before he could help himself. Jack smiled though, not taking offense, pleased to have Dean's approval. </p><p>The door opened and the queen’s wings went straight up, wavering slightly. Anna whipped around and her wings too went up, almost knocking straight into Dean and Sam, now completely forgotten. Half the wings in the room went up and most of the others fluffed and shivered queerly. Dean had gone rigid next to Sam. Finally looking towards the door, Sam saw an imposing but beautiful figure. The man wore black leather from neck to ankle with leather boots. He held his massive black wings high overhead. The primary feathers seemed to end in golden blades. There was a great deal of whispering as Castiel walked through the court to the King and his guests.</p><p>Anna all but flew to her brother as he approached. “Castiel, you look so beautiful. I can’t even-”</p><p>“Anna, your wings,” Jimmy reminded her, and she turned to see that they had been flapping wildly, narrowly missing Sam, Dean, and Jack who had his up as a shield. She tucked them away and wiped at her eyes.</p><p>The Queen stood by now, her wings folded so as not to smack anyone, but she wore her pleasure plainly on her face. “Castiel, I don't think I looked so good at my wedding. And I'm the queen,” she laughed wetly, patting down her skirt. “I may have to invent an award for Hannah.”  </p><p>He was the king's twin, that was plain to see, but he was different in the particular traits. For one, he had much more muscle than the king had. You could tell the black leather stretched across him. The prince’s hair looked windswept and wild, and his face was severe. He looked dangerous. </p><p>Sam shivered as he caught Castiel’s blue eyes. Eyes that looked like they’d see through his deceptions in an instant. He broke out into a cold sweat and did his best to shoot Castiel with a friendly smile. “Castiel, our guests, King Dean of Winchester and Prince Samuel,” Jimmy said as an introduction. </p><p>Castiel nodded, some of that fierce expression melting into something bordering on friendly, and addressed Sam with a tilt of his head. He turned to the visiting king and said in a voice like thunder rumbling over the plains, “Hello Your Majesty, it’s very good to see your face was not permanently disfigured.” </p><p>Dean erupted into laughter. </p><p>Sam was screwed.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry it took me three weeks to post! I've got a couple of pretty hefty projects on the plate and I really wanted to make something good instead of something quick. This story's gonna be a lot longer than i thought it would be, so stick with me okay?<br/>--QQ</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Keg Queen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He lowered his voice in a way he imagined might be alluring and put his hand on the knob of his door. He did not go in right away. “I’d better go take this stuff off. It’s quite heavy and will take some time to do it myself.” </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you guys for being so patient with the updates. I think I've mentioned but between college, motherhood and like 5 spnbangs I'm swamped! I want to take my time and make this great! Thank you, as always, for sticking with me!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 3: Keg Queen</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>His Divine Majesty, Castiel, Prince of Heaven</strong>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had come as a complete surprise to Castiel when  King Dean of Winchester laughed until he cried. Prince Samuel, his intended, looked apologetic. They waited politely for the king to get a hold of himself. “Lords, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard!” Dean rubbed the tears away with the butt of his palm. He did his best to school his features, but a relaxed smile still lingered. “Yeah, dude, I'm all healed up. We have a pretty good witch on call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief flooded Castiel as he remembered the mangled mess Dean’s face had been when he had seen him last. He couldn’t help but liken it to a lumpy heirloom tomato. “I’m glad to hear that. Your injuries would have deformed you without magical intervention.” He wondered if the witch might have gone a little overboard, though. The king’s face was perfectly proportionate as if he had just stepped out of a painting. It was a little irritating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Rowena said.” Dean’s low voice was light and friendly. “Thanks for saving me from that fire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel waved it off, heat beginning the build under his leather collar. He shifted uncomfortably under praise and was hoping to deflect it back toward the king with a simple, “I know you’d have done the same for me, your majesty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean.” The king held out his hand to shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile itched at the corners of Castiel’s mouth. He tilted his head slightly to keep it private and shook his hand firmly, “Dean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Castiel a moment longer before pulling his brother, forward. “Prince Castiel, I’d like you to meet my brother: Prince Samuel of Winchester.” He leaned in in a teasing, brotherly way and said, “I hear he’s put in a bid for your hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam stepped forward. He was much taller than his picture had even suggested. His angular, intelligent face looked nervous. Castiel smiled in a way he hoped was friendly, welcomed him in the most gentle voice he could manage. “Hello, Prince Samuel.” The Prince’s enormous hands swallowed his when they shook hands.  “It surprised me to hear that I had an offer of marriage.” Prince Samuel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and, worried that he had accidentally come across as defective somehow, he added quickly, “I have apparently received several offers. This one was the first one that my family had asked my opinion about.” he looked at his family with a slightly annoyed frown. They were pretending not to eavesdrop, absorbed in the style of hat the Duchess of Pike was wearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nosey angels?” Dean asked with a chuckle. “Guess family’s the same everywhere, huh?”  Castiel nodded with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Samuel looked as if he were about to be ill, and Castiel’s wings ticked up in alarm. “You alright, your highness?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I- uh. I’m a bit dizzy. Could I have a glass of water?”  Anna, who quickly dropped the pretense of commenting on a broach, signaled the waiter for some water and offered Samuel a chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam’s probably just nervous. He’s heard a lot about you.” Dean explained to Castiel. Samuel took the water from Anna gratefully, holding the flute with a surprising amount of delicacy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed very much out of his element here in Heaven and Castiel felt a sort of kinship in that respect. The opulence of a party like this was like sand grit in his own mouth, and he was born to it. The culture shock must finally be setting in. Castiel looked down at his finery, ashamed. “I’m sure my display doesn’t help. I had counted on it not affecting you both so much, it was more of a message to my people than anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Cas. You look good. You should have seen the reactions you got from the peanut gallery. And Anna and Her Majesty seemed to enjoy it.” His eyes roamed over Castiel sticking him into place. “Is that the same pigment as your seal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel looked down at his feathers. “Yes, I believe so. It’s permanent. I won't be able to fly again until I drop them.” He confided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hence the Hoopla.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Castiel watched Samuel and Anna and sighed. He was starting to look less nauseated which was a bit of a relief. If it was a matter of not living up to expectations, Castiel could handle the prince reconsidering his offer. But he was worried now that the prince found him repulsive. And as much as he’d like to say he was above vanity, the truth was it would be a crippling blow to his ego. He caught Dean’s eye and asked in a serious rumble“Am I...am I making a decent impression?” He held his breath, watching Dean’s eyes and face for an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone beside them cleared their throat. Castiel blinked and turned to find his cousin, Gabriel, with a spoon in one hand and a bowl full of caramel sauce in the other. “Cassie!" He said brightly, "you're looking great tonight! Much better than your poor date, at any rate. Wanna cut a rug?</span>
  <span>" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't dance."</span>
</p><p><span>"Sure you do," Gabriel said, abandoning his caramel sauce on a nearby table. "I know for a fact Anna’s got you learning every dance they ever invented."Castiel's eyebrow rose, and he folded his arms over his chest. He wasn’t </span><em><span>wrong</span></em><span>.</span> <span>Gabriel leered and then to Dean said, "Don't let him fool you. He </span><em><span>loves</span></em><span> dancing. It's always the quiet ones, am I right?" </span></p><p>
  <span>Castiel's face heated. He didn’t wholly understand the implication but Gabriel’s mind pretty much lived in the gutter so it was safe to assume. The king bit down a laugh. Castiel needed to end this conversation before his cousin embarrassed him irreparably. "Fine. I’ll dance. But not with you, Gabriel, you look sticky. Your Majesty?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure, if you don't mind my two left feet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel looked at him, confused. "Is there nothing about them your witch could do?" Dean laughed again and escorted him to the dance floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel would never admit it as long as he breathed, but Gabriel was right. He loved to dance. But when he came to these balls, the dances that were popular were simple and, frankly, boring. Traditional angel dances were fast-paced and full of intricate patterns that were just as breathtaking to watch as to be a part of. Watching from up above, grown angels looked like little bees dancing.  Castiel felt again, a homesick pang to be back among his people who still loved their traditional dances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you get this far off look in your eyes. I kinda wonder where you’re going.” Dean said with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel supposed the good thing about a waltz is that it was easier to talk. “Home I guess? Not much for a soldier to do in peace-time, especially when their brother has the country running like a swiss watch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded. “I know the feeling.” Castiel let out a vague sound of disagreement. “I’m serious, I do! I might not have been out there as long but the wild west feels like home to me, the same as you.” The song changed to something a little more up-tempo but Dean pressed on without much loss of breath “I was so used to running the country from my underwear in my tent that when I got home and had to dress and act like a king…” He shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very good at your job,” Castiel commented. “And please, take the compliment. I don’t give them lightly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what his Majesty said.” Dean agreed and then he sighed, slumping into their dance a little. “I might have the know-how but Sammy </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks</span>
  </em>
  <span> and sounds the part. He has his faults but people trust his judgment, to these stuffy folks I probably look like a cleaned up gunsmith.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel looked around the room at the excessive glitz and glamor and grimaced. “Better than looking like a craft shop exploded on you.” Dean laughed heartily, Castiel decided it was a good sound and that it bode well for their friendship. It made him feel warm inside. “You’re a very good dancer, Dean. Looks like we had both undersold ourselves a bit. " </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's because I let you lead," Dean said easily. Castiel realized it was true. He was sort of amazed that Dean would give up so easily.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>"With a giant for a brother, you learn to follow in a way that looks like you're leading." Castiel nodded sagely.  "Speaking of." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel looked away from Dean to see Sam smiling apologetically but much recovered. “Mind if I cut in?” <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>His Royal Majesty, Samuel Prince of Winchester: <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Castiel said amiably. "Thank you for rescuing me from my cousin, Dean." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now we're even." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. I'm afraid I'll have to save you from another Burning tent," Castiel said his wings shaking, a faint tinkling sound could be heard and his wings twinkled catching the light. Dean handed Castiel off to Sam. The handoff was gentle, almost reverent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had wondered what mess he had wandered into. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sketch should have been an omen, a sign that Sam had really stepped in it.  Castiel was nothing like he had been described.  In fact, the moment they met, Sam knew they would be fast friends. After all, the prince was a lot like his brother and Dean was Sam’s best friend. But the first real wave of revelation was like getting kicked in the chest by a cow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a while since the last time he was so completely disoriented by a mistake. While Dean was away Sam had almost cost the humans the war by having a brief affair with a Demon Spy, Ruby. He had been young and inexperienced with both women and power and he supposed that could count as some explanation but now he had no excuse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s hands were warm in his but he said nothing as they danced. Sam reasoned that it was his fault things were awkward, ”Sorry about earlier. I was too excited to eat and got a bit light-headed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright. I apologize If I’ve caused you any discomfort, Your highness.” Castiel said with concern. “My clothes--this display is partially an intimidation tactic. It was for the benefit of my people, I had no idea that it would affect you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it? An intimidation tactic I mean.” Sam asked with a naked interest. “I thought it was a matrimonial display of some kind. That’s what her holiness had mentioned while I was sitting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That too,” Castiel said with a nod as they passed by the Kings. Dean seemed to be talking about something animatedly to Jack, clapping him on the back. King Jimmy looked a little confused, which made him look a lot like his twin, Sam thought. “Many court traditions are a mystery to me. But, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I will never be an expert on my own culture.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s gut twisted uncomfortably. “There’s more to your culture than what happens at court right?” Castiel still looked a bit worried and he noticed that his wings looked a little stiff behind him. Like they didn’t know where it was they should go. They had been relaxed, almost emotive for the most part tonight but now they were a practically radiating concern. “Your display wasn’t intimidating, Cas. It was just a little low blood sugar and culture shock.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s wings relaxed a bit. “I’m glad to hear that, Samuel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, please.”They danced in a much more relaxed, and companionable manner and Sam was surprised to find the other prince really knew how to cut a rug. Other angels were staring as they danced together, some shocked some with a fond smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the dance had ended, Anna came to cut in. “I’m sorry, to cut in but you’ll have my brother for many more dances and right now I have a surprise for him.” Castiel looked suspicious and Sam wondered if he should argue the point. But Cas shook his head slightly and allowed Anna to take his hand. He thanked Sam for the dance and, when Anna’s back was turned away rolled his eyes. Sam chuckled and drifted back towards the royal platform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Cas’s face turn to something near wonder as the band picked up and several noble angels chuckled and let out surprised claps. The music was lively and upbeat, almost like a square dance back home but faster and with lighter, sounding string instruments. Sam watched  Castiel. He looked thrilled, smiling with a wide, white smile. He was laughing as the music picked up and some other nobility lost their footing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It made Sam feel too much all at once. He turned away to find his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean was with the king and queen on their platform. Lord Jack stood by with a short animated man eating a large amount of ice cream. The king called to Sam as he ascended the steps of the platform. “Samuel, Your brother was just telling us about your time at Stanford. He said you earned top marks in each subject! That’s incredibly impressive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what that’s worth,” Sam said humbly. “I’m sure some of my professors were nervous about failing a prince.” Dean held out a small flute of what looked like champagne which he took gratefully. Without much thought, he commented, “I’d like to finish my education. I was nearly finished when my brother ascended.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you plan to return to Stanford?” Jimmy laughed and his wings flexed behind him.  </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Eventually. It’s been one of my greatest wishes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king said in a low voice to his queen, “I’m sure Castiel would have no reservations about going </span>
  <em>
    <span>west</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.” His wings flexed again behind him. Sam could feel the King watching him. It wouldn’t fool him to pretend to be completely besotted. But Sam had hoped he and Castiel could be friends, at least. So he smiled with all of the blossoming feelings of friendship he had in him for the Prince. The king didn’t smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean put his arm around his brother and said charmingly, “You’ll have to forgive Sammy if comes across as bein’ a bit of an overachiever, your highness.” He ruffled Sam’s hair and Sam squawked indignantly, trying to getaway. “It’s my fault. Sam had promised our late father that he would finish his education, and I'm afraid I've kept him from fulfilling his promise much longer than either of us had hoped.” Well, that was technically true. Sam made a vow that he would finish his education, but it was more of a threat than anything. “I think it’s good that the kid stays true to his word, don’t you?”  The King's face didn’t change but he nodded and his wings did sag a bit in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to forgive James.” The Queen said, hand skimming along the top of her husband's wing. “Castiel is a much-beloved brother. James and Anna both have a hard time letting the winds carry him so far from Heaven. Four minutes still makes the prince the baby of the family. Even at forty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear that. Sam’s in his thirties but he’s still a chubby little 12-year-old to me.” Dean said easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blushed. “Dean!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you understand perfectly.” The queen said, her wings shimmering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, here, let’s get you another bite to eat before you’re needed back out on the dance floor,” Dean said with a smile that Sam knew wasn’t really a smile at all. He knew better than to object and allowed himself to be drug along to a delicate spread across a long table. Instead of sitting down to a formal dinner like at the parties in Kansas, the angels seemed free to graze from the table. “We’re so doing this when we get home. I hate sit down dinners.” Dean muttered and after he had filled his plate he turned and looked at Sam suspiciously. “Dude, Sammy, what gives?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sammy choked on the sandwich he was eating. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making everyone nervous.” Dean chastised. “They threw a whole party because you told them you were excited to marry their brother. You could at least act like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do like him!” Sam said quickly. “It’s just happening fast. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s face crumpled into concern. “Yeah. I know, I thought you might be rushing things.”  He brought Sam into a hug and then released him suddenly with a firm look. “You really gonna ask Cas to go with you to Stanford or were you gonna just leave him in Lebanon?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinked. He hadn’t really thought that far. “I don’t know. Like I said, this is all a bit sudden. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be bad to have some company.” Actually, if Sam was being completely honest, he would</span>
  <b>
    <em> love</em>
  </b>
  <span> the company. Most of his cohorts had completed their studies and Sam was sure that everyone would be much younger than he was. It would be nice to have someone around his age to talk to. His brother seemed satisfied with that answer. Something about the exchange with the king felt off though so he asked, “How did you know I was making everyone nervous?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked at him, with a full mouth. “Whut?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said I was making everyone nervous. How did you know that?” Sam pressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean swallowed thickly around a slice of corned beef. “Body language.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam scoffed “Body language? How do you know angel body language?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a book on angels in the library,” Dean said, trying to brush off a faint blush. Sam huffed a laugh he had seen that book on the table lately, thinking one of the servants must have put it out for him in anticipation but now that he thought about it, that book had been floating around and popping up in odd places for about a year now. “And, you know, I've been around angels. Our camps were always pretty close by so we’d all haunt the same watering holes. They’re not all like this.” He indicated to all the finery. “Most of them are just like regular folk in Kansas. Even more, laid back if you can imagine. They all love a good time. From what I’ve heard this stuff isn’t Cas’s idea of a ‘good time’ either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad, this party’s all a bit much. I guess if this really isn’t his thing, I can see why but every other person I’ve talked to said that he was a grouch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well, you were listening to a bunch of elitist assholes. No offense. The soldiers love Cas. They love his brother too especially for all of the things he’s done for the Nephilim.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nephilim?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean choked, his eyes widened in alarm. “Jesus Sammy. What did you get yourself into?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>His Divine Majesty, Prince Castiel</strong>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The reception was winding to an end and Jack had yawned twice now. “Let’s get to bed,” Castiel said nudging him playfully with his wings. “You’ll want to sit in on the discussion and these tend to be tedious. If you don’t sleep now, you’ll fall asleep halfway through them and embarrass yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack tapped him back. “You’re one to talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how I know.” He said tipping his head in amusement. He buried the youth in one of his wings and the younger man flapped indignantly. “Your Majesty, we’re off to bed. We have much to talk about tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy gave a sleepy nod and nudged his wife out of her stupor. “Us too. We’ll leave the wee hours to those of Gabriel’s cut.” He snorted looking off in the distance where a healthy group of partygoers looked hours away from turning in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like we have the same idea,” Sam said stepping forward with Dean at his side. Dean hadn’t looked particularly tired. He seemed oddly energized. They both had actually. They had spent the better part of an hour talking to themselves in the corner. Well, the king had done a lot of talking, Sam had mostly listened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel released Jack from his feathery prison and tucked his wings behind his back. “Good night, Sam. Sleep well.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’d be happy to walk you to your room,” Sam said with a smile. Castiel blinked and Anna choked on her drink. “Oh, uh If that’s okay? We can take Dean as a Chaperone?” He looked at Anna whose wings were convulsing and she colored. She excused herself and all but flew to the closest exit, the butler door before she burst into peals of laughter. Castiel blushed slightly but nodded and he and Sam left the room with Dean and Jack talking between themselves behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s room was first and soon it was just Castiel and the royal brothers of Winchester. Dean hung back to give Sam and himself the illusion of privacy and Castiel was suddenly wishing he wouldn’t. He was nervous and it was dark in the corridor. It felt much too intimate. His earlier conversation with Hannah floated in his periphery. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tonight would be the night to pretend. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But could he?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>When they reached Castiel’s bedroom door, Sam stepped forward and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead as was appropriate for the guest to do as a thank you for a good reception. It was a warm moment and something inside Castiel loosened. Sam didn’t find him repulsive, there was hope that they could be good friends. Partners even. He had little doubt that, with Sam, he could spend the rest of what time he had left in good company. It was the kind of retirement that a good soldier could be proud of. “Goodnight, Cas. We’ll see you tomorrow.” </span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Good night, Sam.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stepped forward too to thank him. “Thank you Cas, We feel very welcome.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Dean. Good night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled softly and closed the gap between them to plant a kiss on Castiel’s forehead just as Sam did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Castiel’s horror, the kisses were not equal. It would be much harder to be friends with the King. The soft brush of Dean's lips on his skin rippled out through his body like rings across still water. A year's worth of idle thoughts bubbled up to the surface like dregs of pond scum, clouding out any other thoughts. Vague arousal swirled in the currents of inky blackness between them in the corridor. He didn’t watch Dean start back down the hall towards the attendant they had passed earlier. He kept his gaze on Sam, but felt as if Dean had taken the tide out with him when he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone with his intended, guilt bloomed in his chest and spurred him to make a move. Sam had offered himself to Castiel as a partner and would honor Sam’s offer. He lowered his voice in a way he imagined might be alluring and put his hand on the knob of his door. He did not go in right away. “I’d better go take this stuff off. It’s quite heavy and will take some time to do it myself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His heart raced and he wondered what in God’s name he was going to do if Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>offered to help</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to it.” Sam said with a friendly pat. “Good night, Cas.” Castiel realized, then, that he had not actually thought Sam would turn him down. He would have laughed at his own vanity if he wasn’t so astonished. He had worried for nothing. Sam was indeed a virtuous man who was not easily tempted and Castiel found he could respect that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sam left him at his door in search of his brother and he was out of earshot Castiel let out a relieved sigh and went inside to fight his clothing off alone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The angels live in the Appalachian Mountains and I've made their traditional music Bluegrass. Fight me. here's a video of the kinda dances they'd be doing. Just imagine it a bit faster, more people, and moves to accommodate their wings.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cs2j8f7H2WY&amp;ab_channel=DavidHoffman</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>